


Divinity

by StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: Tony shooed away the Cloak with one hand while the other pushed down on the hollow of Stephen’s back, bending him at the waist and pinning him against the cool wood of the table. “No,” he preened, devilish smirk tracing down Stephen’s long neck. “Everyone’s gone for the day.”





	Divinity

_ Divinity _

It was a mistake even at the start. A mistake Stephen made again, and again, and _again _with no remorse for what he’d done_. _It was a mistake until Stephen lost count of how many times it had been made, and finally decided that something that felt this _good _couldn’t possibly be wrong.

It couldn’t be.

_It couldn’t be._

\---

Stephen Strange was a shameless romantic. He craved to be wooed and romanced. He loved the lingering touches and subtle glances. Stephen wanted the scented candles, the movie nights on the couch, and the spontaneous dancing in the rain. He desperately desired to love and feel loved in the most simple, unassuming ways.

Stephen sought a heart he could cradle in his trembling fingers and cherish for however much time he had left.

And Tony…didn’t.

_Tony didn’t. _

\---

Stephen stared at the ceiling and watched the swirling plumes of cigarette smoke dance out of sight as they ascended. “How much longer?” he asked softly, not daring to look into Tony’s eyes lest it dash away all the courage he’d built up to ask. “It’s been months since…” warm skin tensed against Stephen’s side, and his words came to an abrupt stop. “It’s been months,” he sighed sympathetically. “I know it’s been hard but…I wish you’d do it already.”

“I can’t, Stephen,” Tony sighed, a rush of smoke filling the air. “You know that.”

“I know,” Stephen agreed lowly, shuffling closer into Tony’s side. “But I wish you’d do it, still.”

\---

Stephen remembered the first time with such vividness he could almost pretend it happened just the other day.

\---

Stephen had opened a portal to get them upstairs, fearing Tony was planning on taking him right there against the front door where Wong could walk by at any given moment.

Moments after tumbling through and crashing into the bed, Tony knocked the bedside lamp over in his struggle to yank Stephen’s old, rickety nightstand open. Ultimately, he ripped the drawer out, smothering Stephen’s squawk of protest with a searing kiss and a quick promise that he’d “Buy you another one, _a hundred more, _later.”

The meager contents of the drawer were dumped in his hurried attempt to find a bottle a lube and, once he did find it, Tony spilt a quarter of the bottle all over the bed as he fumbled around in the dark.

\---

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. Rather, it was rough and sloppy and _nothing _like anything Stephen had imagined. But it still _glorious. _Stephen had nearly sobbed as Tony pushed into him, overcome with the feeling of finally, _finally, _being able to be this close to the man after living millions of lifetimes with him.

Long after, even though there had been times infinitely better, Stephen still clung to the memory fiercely, unwilling to part with any piece of Tony he managed to call his own.

\---

Tony whispered filthy promises of what was to come behind Stephen’s ear as he trapped the sorcerer against the curve of the gleaming meeting table with his hips.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” Stephen gasped, eyes darting towards the closed double doors. “Is there a meeting scheduled for today?”

Tony shooed away the Cloak with one hand while the other pushed down on the hollow of Stephen’s back, bending him at the waist and pinning him against the cool wood of the table. “No,” he preened, devilish smirk tracing down Stephen’s long neck. “Everyone’s gone for the day.”

And then Tony’s teeth sank into Stephen’s shoulder, eliciting the first of a long string of sharp moans that would fill the room.

\---

Stephen’s fingers unfurled, releasing the fistful of bedding he had managed to claw up and sagged against the mattress, once again grateful for Tony’s plush pillowtop. Tony was still sprawled across Stephen’s chest resting his forehead in the crook of Stephen’s pale neck. It was a rare moment of stillness, and Stephen took full advantage of the opportunity to lazily run his fingers through Tony’s damp hair.

“Thanks,” Tony huffed sluggishly against Stephen’s neck, his hand tightening around Stephen’s hip. “I needed that.”

Stephen’s fingers stilled.

_Oh. _

\---

Tony Stark didn’t care for romance.

He didn’t woo, he teased. His touches didn’t linger, they raced across Stephen’s skin like flames. His glances weren’t subtle or brief, but clear and enduring. Tony wanted to be able to breeze into the Sanctum and quickly pound Stephen against the shower wall in the morning and show up to an Avengers luncheon that afternoon acting as if he hadn’t seen or spoken the other man since Titan.

And Stephen couldn’t do that.

He couldn’t.

But how could he deny those beautiful caramel eyes? How could he say no? How could he stop?

_He couldn’t. _

\---

Tony liked to smoke in bed in between rounds. It filled the air with smoke that scorched at Stephen’s lungs and left a scent that intermingled with the stale scent of sweat, sex, and the blueberry flavored lube that stained the sheets. Long after Tony left and the sheets were washed the smell remained, plaguing Stephen with thoughts of Tony. Of what was. Of what _wasn’t. _

The doctor in Stephen couldn’t help but wince and imagine the minutes, days, _years _rolling off Tony’s life each time he lit another cigarette. But if Tony smoked, he lingered longer.

And for that, Stephen could deal with having to wash the sheets twice.

\---

Wanda excitedly prattled on about the latest gossip as Stephen sighed and yet again nudged at her ankles so she would shift into a proper defensive position. “But, honestly,” she huffed, shifting at Stephen’s urging, so her weight was correctly distributed between her feet, “you’d think Stark would let _us _know he and Pep were back on before we saw it on Twitter of all things.”

Stephen’s hand froze just shy of Wanda’s elbow, all the flaws in her posture instantly ripped from his mind.

“What did you say?”

\---

Truthfully, Stephen had known all along. The dream that one day they’d be more than two broken souls seeking comfort from the skin of another was nothing but that – a dream.

\---

Tony slid into Stephen with a ragged moan, rough fingers digging into Stephen’s pale, folded legs as if he needed to ground himself. His breathing faltered, and the usually vocal man fell silent with the initial intrusion. But, as he lost himself in tight heat, Tony soon found his words once again. “_Stephen,_” he crooned, bourbon eyes clouded by a lusty haze. “That feels good, doesn't it?” Tony asked gruffly, surging forward to steal a kiss from Stephen rather than wait for an answer. “You’re so good for me. You’ll _always _be good for me.”

Tony lips burned like embers and tasted like cigarette smoke. His touch was scorching. His eyes left Stephen feeling as if he’d been engulfed in flames.

_You’ll always be good for me._

His words ran over Stephen’s body like ice.

\---

Tony sang sweet praise to Stephen with nothing short of reverence while he slammed into him from behind. His tongue swirled across Stephen’s thighs and dipped into the crease of his ass, humming eagerly as if having the honor of performing a sacred act. He peeked up from behind thick lashes as his mouth worked down Stephen’s cock, tongue tracing long, languid paths up and down the length in a manner that was worshipping.

In the midst of sweat, teeth, and skin hitting skin, Stephen could easily imagine that this was what it felt to have the undying devotion of Tony Stark.

\----

Pepper Potts sent a wedding invitation with a handwritten note to the Sanctum.

Stephen skimmed her looped handwriting before tossing it on the kitchen counter for Wong and deliberately trying to forget it ever came.

\---

Stephen raked his soapy fingers across Tony’s scalp, pulling out a groan of pleasure from the other man. Normally, Stephen would have teased him for it, but his mind was plagued by other things. By other _people. _

“You’re marrying her.”

Tony stilled under Stephen’s touch and turned slightly to look over his shoulder, eyes squinting as he peered through the warm water pouring from the showerhead above. “What?”

“Pepper,” Stephen eyes never straying from where his hands worked through Tony’s hair. “You’re marrying her. She sent us, Wong and I, an invitation.”

“Stephen-”

Stephen shook his head. “You couldn’t do it. I know.”

\---

It had been wrong before. It was still wrong now. And Stephen had known better, which made it worse. But it was so _divine _there was nothing he could do but press his face further into the mattress and try to hide his tears from Tony’s watchful eye as his thrusts turned erratic.

“Up,” Tony commanded with a growl, fingers fumbling around the base of Stephen’s throat as he slammed into Stephen with increasing force. “Pick your face up. I want to hear you scream when you come.”

Stephen obliged, an ugly sound between a wet sob and a heated cry of pleasure ripping past his throat.

Tony stilled instantly, his hands dropping to Stephen’s shoulders. “What happened? Why are you crying?” he asked, running his thumb over Stephen’s hip. “What hurts?”

_Everything. _Everything hurt.

\---

Tony didn’t deliver Peter’s eulogy despite May’s pleas. He didn’t speak at his service at all. Pepper gave a short speech, speaking on how he was a bright boy; the brightest she had ever known. Happy cried through a recount of how the teen would try and get him to laugh during their long limo rides. May bit her lip and barely managed to keep her tears at bay while she spoke about how _brave _her nephew was. How _good _he was. How much he loved everyone.

Even Stephen, who barely knew Peter before his death, stood at the podium and read off a crumpled piece of parchment covered in illegible scrawl about the teen’s remarkable character. His honesty. His devotion.

Tony sat stony-faced in the first row, eyes staring emptily at the sleek black box sat center stage.

\---

“It’s nothing,” Stephen croaked, rocking back, hoping to entice Tony into continuing. It would end soon – that much he was certain of – and he intended to savor the last moments of intimacy, false as they may be, with Tony while he could. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing. Just keep going. _Please _keep going.”

Tony snorted in disbelief and pulled out of Stephen with a grunt. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he sighed, climbing over carefully over Stephen’s lean body, settling next to his side, so they were face to face.

And that made it worse. It was so much worse. Stephen sobbed and drew his shaking hands up and pressed them against his wet face, wishing he were anywhere but pinned under Tony’s inquisitive eyes.

\---

Stephen offered May one last condolence before shuffling out of line and trailing behind Wong. As he passed the front row, he paused for a moment next to Tony’s chair, resting a hand on his sagging shoulder. “If you ever need something,” he offered, “let me know.”

Stephen kept walking.

Tony remained unmoving in his seat.

\---

“Stephen?” Tony tried again, running a soothing finger down the back of one of the sorcerer’s hands. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

“Why are you here?” Stephen asked brokenly, his voice muffled by his hands. “What do you want from me? What do you need from me?”

\---

Tony stood on the other side of the Sanctum’s front door, hair and clothes soaked in rainwater, and eyes burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down Stephen’s spine. “I need something,” Tony rasped gruffly, forgoing any greeting.

Stephen’s brow arched and he opened the door wider, giving Tony room to slip inside. “What is it that you need, To-!”

Tony moved around Stephen and threw him against the door, slamming it closed with the force. “_You,_” Tony growled, clawing at the Cloak, trying to pry it off Stephen’s shoulders. “_Now._”

Stephen drew in a sharp breath, a dozen reasons why this was _wrong _flashing through his mind. “Tony, I-”

But Tony’s mouth found Stephen’s, needy, “Please, _please, _Stephen,” slipping past his lips as he moved down the column of Stephen’s pale throat. “I _need _you.”

And those dozen reasons flew right out Stephen’s mind.

\---

Tony frowned and gently pulled at Stephen’s wrists, exposing his tear-streaked cheeks. “Stephen,” he whispered, a thumb sweeping away the tears from where they’d pooled under his eyes. “The same thing I’ve always needed.”

\---

Wong stuck the invitation and Pepper’s note to the fridge with a _Subway_ magnet.

Stephen tried to pretend it wasn’t there every time he passed by.

\---

“_Fuck, _Stephen.”

Tony was close, but Stephen wasn’t ready. He needed time. His encouraging words halted, his roaming hands dropping down to clench the bedding below. Perhaps it was cruel, but Stephen needed to see the look in Tony’s eyes just a moment longer, needed just a second more to build the courage to say what he wanted.

“_Stephen,_” Tony groaned in frustration, reaching hastily for one of Stephen’s hands. “Why the fuck did you-”

“I love you,” Stephen interrupted breathlessly, hoping the crack in his voice could be misconstrued as arousal rather than grief. “I love you, Tony.”

“Stephen,” Tony gasped, eyes blowing wide as his orgasm crashed over him.

It was July.

\---

_Stephen,_

_I know you’re not one for crowds, but I do hope you come to the wedding. Tony’s not one for big celebrations these days either, but I know it’d make him happier if you were there. He might be too tough to say it, but Tony loves you, you know!_

_Yours,_

_Pep_

\---

Tony married Pepper in late August.

Stephen shredded Pepper’s note as he mourned the loss of July.

\---

“That’s a disgusting habit,” Rhodey chastised, waving his arms at the cloud of smoke that hung over the patio. “I thought Pep got you to give it up before the wedding.”

“She did,” Tony replied briskly, taking another long drag. “But I need the reminder.”

Rhodes brows scrunched in confusion. “Of what?”

Tony sighed, dropped the cigarette on the ground, and crushed it under his shoe “Nothing.”

\---

In the drawer of the gleaming mahogany nightstand next to Stephen’s bed were a pair of forgotten designer sunglasses, a crumpled piece of parchment, and a small strip of smooth paper that exclaimed in elegant swirls, _Tony loves you, you know!_


End file.
